He chuckled richly. “You are many things, but I know you are no evil man. It's not in you to harm the innocent. And even if you could, my guards would swarm in at a moment’s notice. No, my friend. I'm afraid I must retract my hospitality and ask that you leave. The police are on their way here even now. It would be better for you if you were gone when they arrive."
I looked at the others, who seemed as embarrassed as I was. What a bunch of tough guys we were. Put in our places by one old crust. And we couldn't do a thing about it. Because he was right. We couldn’t just beat some sense into the old codger. I racked my brains, trying to stall for time.
"Ok, Mr. Beck. At least let us try to get you outta here. Trust me, you don't know what you're up against."
"No, I believe it is you who suffers from a lack of knowledge. About yourself, and your immediate circumstances. A shame really, that amnesia thing. I pity you."
“Perhaps I should try.” Hunter slowly stepped forward, his face as blank as his tone.
“Am I supposed to be afraid of your synoid thug?” Beck’s tone was derisive. “You won’t let him harm me and you know it, Troubleshooter.”
Hunter wasn’t amused. “I’m afraid you are mistaken. About many things.”
Beck’s smile faded as he studied Hunter. “What… are you?”
“Less than you know. More than you expect.” Hunter looked ominous as Death with his black suit and pale synthetic flesh. His hand was just a blur as it backhanded Beck across the face. The old man looked as shocked as the rest of us as he hit the floor.
Hunter’s voice was a cold monotone. “You will tell me where the Grimoire is. Better to do so before I damage parts of you that you need.”
The butler stepped forward protectively. “What on earth do you think—?”
His words were cut off by a vicious blow to the chest which sent him sprawling. Hunter never looked away from Mr. Beck.
Beck’s face twisted painfully from his position on the floor. Blood oozed from his split lips, and his white hair was plastered to his brow from a sudden downpour of sweat. “Stop,” he gasped. “You can’t do this!” He looked around frantically. “Guards — where are my guards?”
“Hunter — this isn’t what I want.” My hand slid toward the Mean Ol’ Broad. Synoids don’t feel pain, but I wasn’t about to let him torture the old coot right in front of me. I figured a couple of shots to Hunter’s knees might slow him down. Might.
He flung an upraised palm toward me. “This is beyond you now, Troubleshooter. He will not be harmed if he does not resist.”
“You said you were here to help me. This ain’t it, Hunter.”
“This is exactly it.” His hand seized Beck’s necktie, throttling the old man. “This is exactly what you’d do in this situation. That’s the point.” Beck choked and gagged as Hunter brought his face close. “The pain stops when you start talking. So talk.”
“What the hell is going on?” Rob had his pistols in hand, but looked as bewildered as I felt.
“It’s a long story. But it’s about to end right now.” I raised the Broad. “Let him go, Hunter.”
I didn't hear his answer. Because the windows to the side exploded, knocking us sideways from the force. While skidding across the slick tiles, I was struck by a familiar certainty. I'd felt a blast like that very recently.
From those monstrous pistols the New Man carried.
And speak of the devil, he came striding through the flame and smoke like the Lord of Darkness. His black coat fluttered, and his gunmetal eyes gleamed from behind the iron mask. Robed goons swarmed in from behind him like bees who wanted their honey back. They all packed some serious heat.
Guess I knew what happened to Beck’s guards.
"I've come for the Grimoire," the New Man said in his graveyard voice. "The Next Day is upon us. If you surrender it, you can die painlessly. If not, then you can just die."
I pointed the Replacement Killer his direction. "You forgot about the third option."
Gunfire erupted. All I heard was thunder.
Chapter 17: The Grimoire
I've always said if I can't get out of a situation in seven bullets or less, I’m a dead man anyway.
Case in point.
Clouds of slugs and mech rounds hummed as the New Man's goons exchanged fire with me and my crew. Priceless china, crystal ware and chunks of polished marble gave the chaos a touch of class as they were ruined beyond recognition. Fortunately Mayor Beck couldn’t witness the damage because he lay beneath some rubble, out cold.
Me? I'd just emptied the entire clip of 13 mm rockets into the New Man, specifically at his eyes and head. It had worked before.
Things had changed. Just like the first time, they never even reached him. I hate reruns.
"You think to defeat me twice.” He raised the impossibly large pistol as the missiles fell uselessly at his feet. “You are a fool, Troubleshooter.”
A familiar blast rocked the New Man on his heels and sent his pistol flying. It was about time.
"You will not escape so easily this time." Hunter brushed me out of the way as he charged his Dragon for the nano charge. The cylinders hummed as he aimed.
It seemed impossible, but the New Man was even faster; just a blur as he streaked forward and shoved the Dragon toward the ceiling. The blast created a smoldering cavity which opened a really nice view of the night sky. The nanoids continued to eat the ceiling, widening the hole even further. Fortunately their thirty-second life span prevented them from devouring the entire mansion.
The New Man proved himself the superior synoid right about when he kicked Hunter in the gut. I thought I heard something break as Hunter sailed backwards. The drywall cracked when his body struck it, and he dropped to the floor like his circuitry had shorted.
"These crude weapons are a mere annoyance." The New Man looked at the Dragon disdainfully before he snapped it in half, showering sparks. "Little more than toys. And you are a useless abomination. It would have been better if the river swallowed you."
I was glad he was distracted, because it gave me time to switch heaters. I was out of rockets, and pretty sure the Broad was useless against him. But there were a lot of other targets. As if on cue, his Specters decided to focus directly on me. Their aim was pretty bad and their attack style was kamikaze, but there were a lot of the bastards. I had to make an undignified retreat behind some marble pillars to avoid the barrage.
Blue and red lights flashed outside, a sure sign the street sweepers were on the scene. I heard Captain Graves on the horn yapping something about surrendering peacefully. Like that was gonna happen. I appreciated that he showed up in person, though. Saved me the trouble of having to look for him later.
The black-uniformed storm troopers were your standard Government Issue combat androids. They weren’t programmed with personalities, but they seemed taken aback when they kicked the doors in. I don’t know what they made of the situation, but they responded the way they always did on arrival.
They opened fire.
The Specters had to regroup and respond in kind. The body count rose dramatically.
That gave me a little respite, so I dove and rolled over to the marble table Rob and the others had tilted over. Ms. Kilby had ripped her sleeve apart to use as a makeshift tourniquet around a gunshot wound in Poddar's leg.
"Bad luck?"
His face was slicked with sweat. "No, good. He was aiming for my head."
Rob plugged a Specter that Stinker pulled down, then ducked as a slug went through the brim of his Stetson. He yanked it off and looked at the smoking cavity in dismay. "Street sweepers, Specters, and that crazy yahoo from the docks. Anyone you didn’t invite?”